The words on the page bled into Elena's thoughts like poison.
They'll come for you, Elena. And for the boy. Because you're not just a Vales by name…
Alexander read the letter in silence, his expression unreadable. The fireplace crackled behind them, the shadows dancing across his sharp jaw and furrowed brows. Outside, the rain hadn't let up, pounding against the windows like the storm had decided to stay.
When he finally looked up, his eyes met hers with a mixture of disbelief and dawning horror.
"Your father was part of The Twelve?" he asked, voice hushed.
Elena nodded once. "One of the founding members. But he vanished right before the investigation started. Everyone thought he was dead. I did too. Until that letter arrived five years ago."
Alexander stood and walked toward the window, hand pressed against the glass. "You knew this... and you never said anything?"
"I buried it," she whispered. "Just like I buried everything else. I had to protect Elias."
He turned, eyes dark with anger. "You should have told me. That boy is my son, and now he's tangled in something bigger than both of us!"
"I didn't know who to trust!" she snapped. "You left me, Alexander. You married Sabrina. You turned into the ruthless machine you always swore you wouldn't become."
His jaw ticked. "And you disappeared like a ghost."
"I had to."
The silence between them pulsed, thick and electric. Then, without warning, Alexander closed the distance between them, grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her close.
"You think I didn't look for you? You think I didn't feel it the moment you were gone?"
His voice was low, gravelly, filled with pain he had never dared voice.
Elena's breath caught.
His hand came up to her cheek, thumb brushing a tear she hadn't realized had fallen.
"I would've chosen you," he whispered.
"But you didn't," she said.
His mouth crashed onto hers.
Fierce. Demanding. Desperate.
Elena's hands curled into his shirt, resisting at first yhen melting into him. The taste of him, the heat, the ache—it all came rushing back. Their bodies collided like they remembered the rhythm even after all these years.
His hands moved to her hips, lifting her effortlessly onto the table behind them, sweeping away files and papers. She gasped as his lips trailed down her neck, fire igniting in her veins.
Clothes fell away.
Moans tangled with thunder.
The world blurred, and for a few fleeting moments, they were just them Elena and Alexander stripped of power, betrayal, and secrets.
Only flesh. Only heat. Only need.
Afterward, wrapped in silence and tangled sheets, Elena stared at the ceiling, her heart still racing.
"This doesn't change anything," she murmured.
"No," he agreed. "But it changes everything."
By morning, Alexander was gone.
Not in a cold, dismissive way but with a note. Handwritten.
I need to handle things from my end. Protect Elias. I'll burn this world if I have to. But I won't lose you again.
Elena folded the note and tucked it beneath her pillow.
Her phone buzzed.
Kira.
"They've moved," she said without greeting. "The man from the museum he was spotted near the Blackvale shipping yard."
Elena straightened. "What was he doing?"
"Meeting someone. And you're not going to like this Sabrina's driver picked him up."
Elena's pulse spiked. "She's working with them?"
Kira hesitated. "She's not just working with them. She's leading them. She's been in contact with a man called Desmond Vales."
Elena's heart stopped.
"My uncle."
"Thought he died in France three years ago?"
"Apparently not," Elena said, voice like ice. "He was always ambitious. Always wanted the Vales legacy to be his. He hated that I inherited everything after my father vanished."
"Desmond's making moves," Kira said. "Fast ones. And he's not hiding anymore."
"I need every file we have on him," Elena said. "And Kira… call in the Blacklist."
Kira paused. "Are you sure?"
"I didn't want to go back to that life," Elena said. "But they've made it clear: they want war."
Later that night, the Blacklist arrived.
Five figures in tailored suits. Silent. Efficient. Ghosts of her past life. Men and women Elena had once led in secret—when she ran the underworld's most elusive syndicate under a different name: The Ghost Widow.
They didn't bow. They didn't speak. They waited.
"I want Desmond found," she said. "And Sabrina. I want them watched. I want them stripped of protection, contacts, resources. Quietly."
One of the Blacklist, a woman with platinum hair and sharp eyes, nodded.
"What of the child?" she asked.
Elena's eyes flared. "He's off-limits. You harm him, you vanish."
The woman smiled, almost approvingly. "Understood."
Somewhere in a private suite overlooking the city, Sabrina swirled a glass of red wine, watching as Desmond Vales entered.
"You've stirred the wasp's nest," she said.
Desmond shrugged. "It's what I do."
"Elena won't go down easily."
"That's the fun part."
Sabrina raised an eyebrow. "And Alexander?"
"He's a complication. But you've slept next to him long enough to know how to distract him."
Sabrina's smile was slow and deadly. "You think I'm going to seduce him back?"
"I think you'll do what it takes," Desmond said. "Because if Elena rises again, she'll burn everything you've built."
Sabrina's gaze turned toward the skyline.
Let her try.
At Blackvale, Elena stood on the rooftop, wind catching her coat, eyes fixed on the horizon. The skyline stretched before her like a battlefield. Somewhere out there, her enemies were gathering, and her son's future was hanging by a thread.
But she wasn't afraid.Not anymore. She was ready to remind the world who Elena Vales truly was. And she was done hiding.